[In the following essay, Taalman Kip maintains that providing the Olympian Gods with an interpolated morality is not consistent with Homer's presentation of the human condition in the Iliad.]

Ever since antiquity the gods of the Iliad have been a stumbling block: in the view of Homer's ancient admirers the behaviour of his gods, especially Zeus, ought to have a moral basis, since otherwise they would not feel comfortable about their admiration for the poems. Plato sacrificed his admiration on the altar of his indignation, and banned Homer from his ideal state. Allegorizing interpreters solved the problem by arguing that Homer's gods were not meant to be gods; if Apollo is actually the heat of the sun, we need not be bothered by his morals.¹ Christian readers were sometimes willing to forgive Homer because he was not actually at fault, having been born too early to be a Christian.² Down through the ages Homer has been alternately attacked and defended on this point, and I am convinced that the desire to justify the ways of the Homeric gods has not died out. Otherwise I cannot explain why a number of scholars, in discussing the gods and their reasons for dealing with men as they do, consistently ignore the narrator, disregarding what he tells us and filling in what he does not.

This striving to justify the actions of the gods appears to be related to a desire for poetic justice. This desire would be satisfied if, in the Iliad, men were punished for their evil deeds or their morally wrong decisions, but did not suffer for reasons that were inexplicable or morally neutral. The existence of human guilt and divine justice would take the sting out of the poem, and render it less disturbing: we might even come to the conclusion that nothing bad will befall us as long as we make the right decisions and commit no evil. But are we justified in attributing to Homer such a simplistic view of life? Of course, if that is what he says, we must accept it, but does he? I shall explore this question with special reference to the downfall of Troy.

In discussing the Homeric gods it should be a guiding principle to make a distinction between two sources of information: on the one hand, the human characters and, on the other hand, the narrator, who reveals to us much more about the gods than the human characters can possibly know.³ It is the narrator who makes it possible for us to attend their assemblies and to learn what Zeus has decided to do. The human characters, by contrast, must rely on oracles and omens, and despite the frequent immediate contact between certain heroes and certain gods, their knowledge is far more limited than ours. Even when they believe that they know the will of the gods, they may be quite mistaken. Thus Agamemnon is convinced that Zeus has deceived him and has failed to keep his promise that Troy will be conquered (9.18-22), while we know that Troy will indeed fall in the end and that the present setback is only temporary. Later this will be clear to Agamemnon, too; the will of the gods is expressed in events. There are cases, however, in which we are told about things the human characters will never know, and obviously we cannot ignore such information.

One of the most striking examples of information that is revealed only to us is found in Iliad 3 and 4. Let us look at what is happening here from the perspective of the human characters. When Hector proposes ending the war by means of a single combat between Menelaos and Alexandros, the two parties agree to a truce and swear an oath that they will abide by the outcome of the duel. Menelaos is winning, but then all of a sudden Alexandros mysteriously disappears. The men in the field do not understand what has happened and search for him in vain. Then Pandaros wounds Menelaos by a treacherous arrow shot—a violation of the truce which results in the renewal of hostilities.

As Menelaos is about to throw his spear at Alexandros, he prays to the highest god:

Zευ̑ ἄνα, δὸs τείσασθαι ὅ με πρότεροs κάκ' ἔοργε,
δι̑ον 'Αλἐξανδρον, καὶ ἐμῃ̑s ὑπὸ χερσὶ δάμασσον,
ὄφρα τιs ἐρρίγῃσι καὶ ὀψιγόνων ἀνθρώπων
ξεινοδόκον κακὰ ῥἐξαι, ὅ κεν φιλότητα παράσχῃ.

‘My lord Zeus, grant that I may punish the man who wronged me unprovoked, noble Alexandros, and subdue him under my hands, so that many a man, in the future also, will shrink from wronging his host, who shows him kindness.’

(3.351-4)

Later on in the Iliad he again appeals to Zeus when he calls out to the Trojans:

… οὐδἐ τι θυμἳ̑
Zηνὸs ἐριβρεμἐτεω χαλεπὴν ἐδείσατε μη̑νιν
ξεινίου, ὅs τἐ ποτ' ὔμμι διαφθἐρσει πόλιν αἰπήν·
οἵ μευ κουριδίην ἄλοχον καὶ κτήματα πολλὰ
μὰψ οἴχεσθ' ἀνάγοντεs, ἐπεὶ φιλἐεσθε παρ' αὐτῃ̑·

‘You were not afraid in your heart for the grievous wrath of loudthundering Zeus, Zeus Xeinios, who will once destroy your city; you, who recklessly carried off my lawful wife and many possessions, when she herself offered you hospitality.’

(13.623-627)⁴

And indeed, it is only natural for him to expect Zeus to detest the man who so flagrantly violated the laws of hospitality, not only the man himself, but also his fellow citizens, who condoned what he did.

Likewise, it is only natural that Agamemnon is convinced that Zeus, who was called upon when the oath was sworn, will not tolerate its violation:

εὔ γὰρ ἐγo τόδε οῒδα κατὰ φρἐνα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν·
ἔσσεται ἣμαρ ὅτ' ἄν ποτ' ὀλώλῃ '′Ιλιοs ἱρὴ
καὶ Πρίαμοs καὶ λαὸs ἐυμμελίω Πριάμοιο,
Zεὺs δἐ σφι Κρονίδηs ὑψίζυγοs, αἰθἐρι ναίων,
αὐτὸs ἐπισσείῃσιν ἐρεμνὴν αἰγίδα πα̑σι
τη̑σδ' ἀπάτηs κοτἐων·

‘For I know quite well in my heart and my mind: there will be a day when it will be done with Troy and Priam and the people of Priam with the good ashen spear, and when Zeus, Kronos' son, who dwells in the aether, will himself shake his dark aegis against all of them, angry at this deceit.’

(4.163-168).

And once again, when he urges his troops forward into battle, he exclaims:

'Αργει̑οι, μή πώ τι μεθίετε θουρίδοs ἀλκη̑s·
οὐ γὰρ ἐπὶ ψευδἐσσι πατὴρ Zεὺs ἔσσετ' ἀρωγόs,
ἀλλ' οἴ περ πρότεροι ὑπὲρ ὅρκια δηλήσαντο,
τω̑ν ἤτοι αὐτω̑ν τρενα χρόα γυ̑πεs ἔδονται,
ἡμει̑s αὔτ' ἀλόχουs τε φίλαs καὶ νήπια τὔκνα
ἄξομεν ἐν νήεσσιν, ἐπὴν πτολίεθρον ἐλωμεν.

‘Argives, do not cease from the tempestuous battle, for father Zeus will be in truth our helper, and they who were first to violate the truce, their tender flesh the vultures will devour, and their wives and their young children we shall carry off on our ships, when we have captured their town.’

(4.234-239)

This then is the perspective of the human characters. Let us now look at our own information. First of all, we know that it was thanks to Aphrodite—who was more interested in ensuring the safety of her favourite than in ending the war—that Menelaos was denied total victory. However, her ‘one-man campaign’ is not decisive. Despite Alexandros' disappearance, the Greeks claim the victory, and although we do not hear the Trojans' reaction, the situation is still more or less open. Things are decided on Olympus, where the gods—witnessed only by us—are assembled. Zeus, like Agamemnon, concludes that Menelaos has won and asks ‘What next: war again or peace?’

In the lines that precede Zeus' speech we are told that his words were ‘jeering’ or ‘mocking’. Does this refer to the whole speech (4.7-19) or only to 7-12? Opinions are divided on this point. According to some scholars, Zeus is serious when he proposes a permanent peace, while others maintain that it is clear from the omens related by Odysseus (2.308-329; 350-353) that the fate of Troy was decided long ago. Flaich (20, note 27) rejects this argument, maintaining that we cannot know whether Calchas' interpretation of the sparrow omen was correct. However, this objection is not a valid one, for whatever the case in real life, in epic poetry and tragedy seers are always right. I am convinced, therefore, that the fate of Troy has indeed already been decided. But this does not imply that the divine discussion as a whole is not a serious affair. It has often been said that Pandaros' treachery is a re-enactment of Paris' initial offence. In the same way, the scene on Olympus must be seen as a re-enactment of the negotiations which, at some time in the past, sealed the fate of Troy.⁵ Apparently the narrator wanted us to know why the gods passed this sentence on Troy.

Hera's furious reaction (25-29) arouses Zeus' anger. There is no longer anἐy mockery in his words when he retorts:

δαιμονίη, τί νύ σε Πρίαμοs Πριάμοιό τε παι̑δεs
τόσσα κακὰ ῥζουσιν, ὅ τ' ἀσπερχὲs μενεαίνειs
'Ιλίου ἐξαλαπάξαι ἐυκτίμενον πτολίεθρον;
εἰ δὲ σύ γ' εἰσελθου̑σα πύλαs καὶ τείχεα μακρὰ
ἄμὸν βεβρώθοιs Πρίαμον Πριάμοιό τε παι̑δαs
ἄλλουs τε Τρω̑αs, τότε κεν χόλον ἐξακἐσαιο.

‘Foolish you are; in what respect you are wronged by Priam and Priam's children so much that you fiercely yearn to annihilate the town of well-built Troy? If you would enter the gates and walls of Troy and would devour the flesh of Priam and Priam's children and the other Trojans, then you would calm your anger.’

(31-36)

However, despite his indignation, Zeus is prepared to let Hera have her way, on one condition: if ever in the future it is his wish to destroy a city that is dear to her, he expects her to let him have his way:

καὶ γὰρ ἐγo σοὶ δω̑κα ἑκoν ἀἐκοντί γε θυμἳ̑·
αi γὰρ ὑπ' ἠελίo τε καὶ οὐρανἳ̑ ἀστερόεντι
ναιετάουσι πόληεs ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων,
τάων μοι περὶ κη̑ρι τιἐσκετο '′Ιλιοs ἱρὴ,
καὶ Πρίαμοs καὶ λαὸs ἐυμμελίω Πριάμοιο.
οὐ γὰρ μοί ποτε βωμὸs ἐδεύετο δαιτὸs ἐίσηs,
λοιβη̑s τε κνίσηs τε· τὸ γὰρ λάχομεν γἐραs ἡμει̑s.

‘For I gave you this, voluntarily, but with unwilling heart. For from all the towns of earth-dwelling men that are situated beneath the sun and the sky, holy Ilios was by far the most honoured by me in my heart, and so were Priam and the people of Priam with the good ashen spear. For never has my altar lacked a fairly-shared meal and drink-offerings and the savour of burnt sacrifice. For this is the gift of honour that is due to us.’

(4.43-49)

He speaks about Troy as if it has already ceased to exist.

Hera readily agrees to Zeus' condition and offers him Argos, Sparta or Mycene. At her request Zeus sends Athena to the battlefield to revive the war:

αῒψα μάλ' ἐs στρατὸν ἐλθὲ μετὰ Τρω̑αs καὶ 'Αχαιούs,
πειρα̑ν δ' ὥs κε Τρω̑εs ὑπερκύδανταs 'Αχαιοὺs
ἄρξωσι πρότεροι ὑπὲρ ὅρκια δηλήσασθαι.

‘Go quickly to the army camp, to the Trojans and the Achaeans, and try to bring about that the Trojans take the initiative and are the first to harm the bold Achaeans, in violation of the treaty.’

(4.70-72)

And Athena, on arriving on earth, talks Pandaros into his treacherous act.

To a first-time listener or reader this discussion on Olympus may come as something of a shock. The prayer of Menelaos, who understandably expected Zeus to second him, is simply ignored by the father of men and gods. Moreover, we are told that he does not detest the Trojans at all, but rather that they are dearer to him than all others, not because of their moral qualities but for their generous offerings. Nonetheless he sacrifices them to the implacable hatred and rancour of Hera and Athena, and personally orders his daughter to bring about the violation of an oath that men expected him to respect. When afterwards Agamemnon appears convinced that Zeus resents this violation, we realize that he does not even begin to fathom the intentions and motives of the gods. The human characters do not know, and will never know, that the oath was violated at the instigation of Zeus himself.

Scholars have tried to mitigate the harshness and cynicism of this passage, and keep divine justice intact by arguing that the gods merely take advantage of human shortcomings. According to Mueller (115), for example, Pandaros is “deceived in the core of his being”. Schmitt (83-4) says we are explicitly told that Athena is searching for precisely this man among the Trojans; apparently she expects him to be a willing victim, but his “freie Selbstbestimmung” is in no way abrogated by her promptings. He is free to say no.⁶ However, the narrator does not tell us why Athena selected Pandaros, and since the ‘core of his being’ is unknown to us, such arguments are somewhat circular: Athena selected him for this treacherous act because, as is clear from the act, his disposition was vile and foolish. Admittedly, the narrator calls him ἄφρων, but this judgement rests on his present actions, and is hardly a general characteristic. A more obvious reason for Athena's preference is the fact that she needs a good archer and his skill in this area is known to us. We are told about it in 2.827:

Πάνδαροs, oκαὶ τόξον 'Απόλλων αὐτὸs ἔδωκεν.
‘Pandaros, who had received his bow as a gift from Apollo himself.’

This, however, is not the main point. I agree that, on the human level, Pandaros is guilty: he could have said no. But what is the upshot of this observation? Would Athena have been at her wit's end if he had done so, and would she then have resigned herself to peace and to the survival of Troy? By concentrating on Pandaros' arrow shot, we are merely dealing with the method that is used by the gods which, on the divine level, is of secondary importance. Athena makes use of human beings only after the decision has been taken; the decision itself rests with the gods alone.

Lesky, understandably, sees this as a case of ‘Doppelte Motivation’: “Die Schuld der Troer besteht also in der Handlung einer der Ihren, die durchaus von den Göttern geplant und ausgelöst wurde. Trotzdem haben sie die Folgen des Eidbrüches bis zumletzten zu tragen” (43). I cannot entirely concur with his formulation, since in my view there is no ‘trotzdem’, either from the perspective of the human characters, who are unaware of any divine interference and place all the blame on the Trojans, or from our own perspective. We know that Troy must fall in any case, whatever the Trojans do or do not do; not even perfect virtue can protect them from the ruthless vindictiveness of the goddesses.

But why this vindictiveness? Zeus asks Hera for her reasons, but his question goes unanswered. The listeners probably realized, as we do, that the narrator chose not to include the judgement of Paris.⁷ As Reinhardt argues, this would have been too futile a reason: “Heras Hass ist rätselhaft, unheimlich, ungeheuerlich. … Von so furchtbarem Rätselcharacter ist die Gottheit” (29). He is undoubtedly right: the introduction of such a frivolous topic would have cancelled out the impact of the grim struggle for power between Hera and Zeus. Nevertheless Reinhardt defends the authenticity of 24.29-30, although his argument, as Davies (57) observes, is not free from a certain antinomy: if the narrator deemed the judgement of Paris too futile a reason in 4, why then did he introduce it in 24?

The authenticity of 29-30 was called into question even in antiquity, and doubts were not confined to these lines alone. According to σbΤ, an unnamed scholar wanted to athetize 23-30 altogether and Aristarchos, though accepting 23, rejected 24-30.⁸ The scholiast lists no fewer than eight objections; while not all of them are valid, a number of them certainly are. I do not intend to examine all of them here—the details are discussed by Richardson—but I would like to add some observations, in particular in relation to the hemistich 'Αλεξάνδρου ἐνεκ' ἄτηs. This is not the first time these words occur in the Iliad,⁹ and Richardson rightly observes that “without 29-30 one would take this phrase as referring to Paris' rape of Helen, as at 6.356 and 3.100 (if ἄτηs is right there)”.

According to Richardson, most of the problems would be solved by athetizing only 29-30. However, this solution would give rise to another problem, since the information that Hera, Athena and Poseidon resent the Trojans, and always did so, because of Paris' rape of Helen would be rather startling. We have already seen that, on the human level, Menelaos expects Zeus to punish the Trojans for Paris' initial offence, while Zeus himself is not interested in his role of Zeus Xeinios; on the contrary, he has great love for the Trojans. And now, all of a sudden, we would be told that, on the divine level, ethical considerations are at stake after all, not in the case of Zeus, but in that of Hera, Athena and Poseidon. Are we really to believe that the narrator presents this astonishing news in only three words, and at a point when nearly everything has been said and done? And if so, how are we to explain that neither Hera nor Athena nor Poseidon ever press this argument, and blame Zeus for his indifference with respect to human morals? In short, athetizing only 29-30 yields a text that runs counter to everything we have been told—and not told—up to now.¹⁰ If we reject 29-30, then 28 must go too.

So what are we to do? Must we reject 22-30, 23-30, 24-30 or 28-30? I am not entirely sure, although I would probably eliminate 28-30 at least. However, even if we retain the passage in its entirety, the overall picture we have been presented with in book 4 does not essentially change. It is too late for that and, moreover, the personal pique of the goddesses can hardly be regarded as a morally acceptable reason for their hatred, and for the destruction of Troy to which it gives rise.

Apart from book 4 and possibly book 24, we are never informed about the reasons of the gods for entertaining their pro- or anti-Trojan feelings. Paris' offence is never a topic of discussion on Olympus. We are left with the information that Zeus, though he sympathizes with the Trojans, sacrifices Troy to Hera and Athena, whose hatred is either not motivated at all or perhaps—rather late in the poem—only by the judgement of Paris. But not all scholars consider this acceptable: there are those who believe that morality must play a role somewhere. Here similes provide the solution, especially the one in 16.384-393:

ὡs δ' ὑπὸ λαίλαπι πα̑σα κελαινὴ βἐβριθε χθoν
ἤματ' ὀπωρινἳ̑, ὅτε λαβρότατον χἐ ει ὕδωρ
Zεὐs, ὅτε δή ῥ' ἄνδρεσσι κοτεσσάμενοs χαλεπήνῃ,
οi βίῃ εἰν ἀγορῃ̑ σκολιὰs κρίνωσι θἐμισταs,
ἐκ δὲ δίκην ἐλάσωσι, θεω̑ν ὄπιν οὐκ ἀλἐγοντεs·
τω̑ν δἐ τε πάντεs μὲν ποταμοὶ πλήθουσι ῥἐοντεs,
πολλω̑s δὲ κλιτυ̑s τότ' ἀποτμήγουσι χαράδραι,
ἐs δ' ἅλα πορφυρἐην μεγάλα στενάχουσι ῥἐουσαι
ἐξ ὀρἐων ἐπικάρ, μινύθει δἐ τε ἔργ' ἀνθρώπων·
os ὀπποι Τρῳαὶ μεγάλα στενάχοντο θἐουσαι.

‘Just as the whole dark earth is weighed down by a hurricane on a day in late summer, on which Zeus pours out a turbulent mass of water, when he is wrathful and angry at men who in an assembly in a violent way pass crooked sentences and drive dike out, without worrying about the revengeful mien of the gods; all their rivers are overflowing, and the torrents cut off many hillsides, and loudly they roar while streaming headlong from the mountains into the surging sea, and the farmlands of men are damaged; just so the Trojan horses roared loudly while running’.

It is generally agreed that the contents of 386-387 in particular, with its Hesiodic ring, are exceptional. Several scholars have suggested that the lines are an interpolation,¹¹ but Janko, citing Griffin, argues that the image “is less isolated than it seems: when Zeus grieves for his son he sends bloody rain (459), when he plans a grim battle he thunders all night (7.478), and when angry he lashes the earth until she groans (2.781-3)” (365, ad 384-93). However, this observation is hardly relevant: none of these passages have anything to say about Zeus punishing mortals for their injustice. Nonetheless, for the sake of argument, I am prepared to consider the entire simile genuine and to discuss its possible implications.

After remarking on the explicit and implicit points of comparison and referring to 21.522-524, Janko comments: “here the Trojans are linked with wrongdoing, and the poet comes near to an open justification of Troy's fall, all the more persuasive because we are left to infer it for ourselves”. This comment is somewhat puzzling, but the sentences which follow seem to offer some clarification: “The Iliad's tragic vision emphasizes the amoral gods of myth, but we sometimes glimpse ‘an underlying conviction that these powers are on the side of right and justice’ (G. M. Calhoun in Companion 449; cf. Lloyd-Jones, Justice of Zeus 1ff.). In such contexts ‘Zeus’ and ‘the gods’ are rarely distinct. Cf. Zeus' interest in the Abioi as paragons of justice, Menelaos' faith that Zeus Xenios must punish the Trojans, the muted criticism of Paris' morality or the gods' wrath over an unburied body (13.4-7, 13.620-39, 13.660-72nn., 22.358)” (365, ad 384-93). Apparently Janko is on the lookout for any detail that might support the notion of divine justice, but these examples will simply not do. 13.620-639 and 22.358 are spoken by a human character and must for this reason be left out in this connection.¹² If we infer from 13.4-7 that Zeus is interested in the Abioi because of their justice, we must, I am afraid, also infer that he is interested in the Hippemolgoi because of their milk drinking. The criticism of Paris' morality is so muted that only an elaborate construction devised by an interpreter can make it heard.¹³ And even if we are prepared to hear it, it has nothing to say about the justice of the gods. However, it is more important to reflect on the exact meaning of Janko's reasoning and on its consequences.

If I understand him correctly, Janko argues that the poet of the Iliad had no use for moral gods, but could not resist dropping subtle hints to his audience that Zeus is not in fact amoral. In the case of our simile, he undercuts his tragic vision by obliquely assuring us that Zeus does chastise the Trojans for their wrongful behaviour and that, no matter what we are told in the story proper, he sees to it that they get their just deserts. While my version may seem somewhat exaggerated, I have actually done no more than make explicit what Janko is implying. And in this explicit form his view is quite remarkable, in that we would then be dealing with an epic poet who uses his similes to contradict his own story. Is this indeed the case? Let us take a closer look.

The simile is the last and most extensive one in a series of three; in all of them, Zeus is essentially (as in 12.278-289) the weather god: first he brightens the sky (297-302), then he fills it with clouds, the forerunners of a hurricane (364-367), and finally he causes the hurricane itself. The explicit point of comparison is related to a detail: the roaring noise of the torrents within the simile, and the Trojan horses in the narrative context. The Trojans themselves are not mentioned explicitly, but the simile as a whole clearly illustrates the violence they suffer on their headlong flight. The hurricane is caused by Zeus, who is angry; the reason for his anger is, in a sense, only a detail, like the ship-timber in 16.484: it explains, within the simile, why the carpenters cut the oak, but there is no reason to associate Sarpedon's death with ship-timber. Likewise there is no reason to associate the Trojans with the men who are described in 387-88, unless the narrator is urging us to make the connection, which is definitely not the case. Instead of ‘men who pass crooked sentences’, he could have said ‘men who do not respect the laws of hospitality’. As it is, Paris' offence is a far cry from the misdemeanour described in the simile. He could have focussed on the suffering of the human victims, both in the simile and in the narrative context. As it is, he focusses on the noise of the torrents and the horses. And since the listeners know that, as a character in the story, the sovereign god loves the Trojans and is not himself bent on their destruction, they will not be particularly inclined to identify the Zeus of the simile with the Zeus of the story. Small wonder then that Janko resorts to quite an astonishing ex silentio argument, an argument that amounts to: it is not there and precisely for that reason it is convincingly present. Why is it that ‘we must infer it for ourselves’? It is not, in my view, the poet who imposes this obligation on us.¹⁴

As noted above, there is one more simile that is deployed in the interests of demonstrating divine justice. In 21.522-525 we read:

ἄs δ' ὅτε καπνὸs ἰoν εἰs οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἵκηται
ἄστεοs αἰθομἐνοιο, θεω̑ν δἐ ἑ μη̑νιs ἀνη̑κε,
πα̑σι δ' ἔθηκε πόνον, πολλοι̑σι δὲ κήδε' ἔφηκεν,
os 'Αχιλεὺs Τρώεσσι πόνον καὶ κήδε' ἔθηκεν.

‘Just as when smoke rises to the broad sky from a town that is burning; the wrath of the gods sends it upwards; it causes toil for all and sorrow for many; just so Achilles caused toil and sorrow for the Trojans.’

Moulton comments: “These lines, together with the great δίκη simile at XVI.384f., are the closest the poet comes to an explicit justification of the Trojans' destruction through the plan of Zeus. It is not explicitly stated here that the burning city is Troy, or that its people have been unjust; it is only said that the city has been afflicted by the gods' wrath. Yet divine anger is not generally arbitrary in Homer, whether or not it conforms to the requirements of modern notions of retributive justice. And the Trojans, at XVI.393 and XXI.525, are explicitly linked with cities that have incurred the gods' displeasure” (110-111). It will be clear from this comment that Moulton is in two minds about the question, but because he does not actually say so, his argument is rather confused. He begins by linking this simile with the other one, and by referring explicitly to the ‘δίκη simile’ at 16.384 ff., he suggests that we are dealing here with a moral justification. Next he concedes that the people in this simile are not referred to as unjust. But then he goes on to observe that ‘divine anger is not generally arbitrary in Homer’, so that he seems to be retracting this concession. Finally, however, from ‘whether or not’ onwards, he implies that the wrath of the gods may have nothing to do with justice. Moreover, in note 60, he refers not only to Lloyd-Jones,¹⁵ but also to Fenik: ‘especially 216-221, where the wraths of Poseidon and Helios are singled out as essentially arbitrary’. In this way he obscures the central issue and makes no attempt to try to explain why the poet should offer such justification only in similes and not, for example, by quoting the words of Zeus.

In my view, there is no reason to make a problem out of the simile in 21. Although it is not said in so many words, it is plausible that the town is burning because it has been captured by enemies—a fate that will be Troy's before long. The following step might be to suppose that the simile implies that Troy, too, will be the victim of divine wrath. But this is something we knew all along; we were told in book 4 about the wrath of Hera and Athena. And since θεω̑ν is not specified and no reason is given for their wrath, there is nothing here that points to divine justice and nothing that runs counter to the story.

As I said at the beginning, it is interesting to see how scholars supply their readers with explanations that are not provided by the narrator himself. I quote a few examples.

In addition to his comment on the simile in 16, Janko also assures us that Zeus “is concerned to punish perjurers and those who wrong suppliants and xenoi (strangers/hosts/guests); Paris' crime against Menelaos explains why he must ultimately back the Greeks against the Trojans. But there are signs that he cares about justice in a wider sense (16.384-93n.), and his will can be taken to represent that of his entire family, since the gods collectively are omniscient and omnipotent” (5). Zanker, although he discusses the discrepancy between Agamemnon's expectations and the behaviour of Zeus, nevertheless affirms that the gods are “ultimately prompted by feelings of outrage and by some conviction about the independent value of protecting things like oaths, …” (32). And on the next page we read: “Odysseus' words to Polyphemos in the Odyssey are commonly and rightly quoted as valid for the Iliad as well: “Zeus is the agent who confers tîmê upon suppliants and guests, Zeus the god of hospitality [xeinios], who accompanies revered guests,” so Polyphemos should “have shame before the gods,” or “respect,” for Odysseus is his suppliant (Od. [Odyssey] 9,269-71)”. Morrison argues that “it is surely one of Zeus' larger goals to punish those who violate the code of hospitality” (291). Schein holds that the Trojans are consistently represented as “transgressors, who are morally responsible for their own ruin” (20). Erbse observes: “Der Gedanke dass Zeus das Recht beschützt und das Unrecht bestraft, steht in der Ilias nicht so im Vordergrund wie in der Odyssee, er ist aber auch nicht, wie bisweilen behauptet wird, auf das Gleichnis Π 384ff. beschränkt. Man denke vor allem an den Ausgangspunkt der ganzen Erzählung, an Paris' Vergehen gegen Zeus Xeinios, …” (221). And as we know, according to Schmitt the gods are certainly not unjust: “Es widerfährt jedem von den Menschen nur das was er sich selbst verdient hat.” The poet needed these gods to open the way for our pity and our awareness of the human condition. When we try to make them just and moralistic in spite of their creator, we dehumanize his poem.

Notes

1. See Heraclitus, ‘Ομηρικὰ Προβλήματα, 6.3-6; 8.1-6. It appears to be utterly unfair, he says, that when Apollo takes revenge on Agamemnon, he makes innocent soldiers his victims instead of the general himself. But Heraclitus is convinced that Homer is not referring to a god, but to the heat of the sun, the actual cause of the pestilence.

2. See, for instance, the Essay of Thomas Parnell that precedes the translation of Pope (I.67-70 in the edition of Maynard Mack, London-New Haven, 1967).

3. This principle tends to be neglected, although not by all scholars. Yamagata draws the line very carefully. Her first chapter is entitled: “Moral functions attributed to the gods”, attributed, that is, by the human characters. She proves to be well aware that such an attribution does not mean that the gods actually display the moral preoccupations they are credited with.

4. I am not sure about ἐπεί. The translation ‘when’ may be wrong, since temporal ἐπεί is not, as a rule, followed by an imperfect tense. Janko prefers ‘since’, but I do not quite understand his explanation: “There is irony in ‘you went away taking my wife for no reason (μάψ), since she gave you hospitality’”.

5. Therefore I do not agree with Kirk, when he comments ad 4.6: “παραβλήδην, ‘deviously’, because Zeus really needs to get the fighting restarted to fulfil his promise to Thetis”. It is not the μη̑νιs that is at stake here, but the gods' initial decision about the fate of Troy.

6. Cf. Latacz 34: “Sie dürfen dem Menschen—so haben es vor allem A. Heubeck und H. Gundert in eindringlichen Analysen nahegelegt—eigentlich immer nur den Gedanken, die Tat, das Verhalten in den Sinn legen, zu denen er selbst schon disponiert war”. He does not make it clear who it is who does not allow the gods to act otherwise.

7. The scholiast (σbΤ 23) infers from 4.31-32, 3.164, and other passages that the poet did not know the story of the judgement, but this appears highly improbable.

8. According to Richardson (276, ad 23-30), Aristarchos “does not seem to have rejected 24, since he is not said to have objected to the parallel 109 (although he did regard 71-3 as an interpolation)”. I am not convinced that this ex silentio argument is valid, but since 24 is not the actual stumbling block, the question is not particularly important.

9. The words are used in 3.100 by Menelaos and in 6.356 by Helen. It might argue against 24.28 that the hemistich is used here, in contrast to the other two examples, in narrator text, but this argument is not really decisive. In all three cases there is the varia lectio ἀρχη̑s. In 3.100 it is only Zenodotos who, according to σΑ, proposes ἄτηs; in 6.356 most manuscripts have ἄτηs and in 24.28 nearly all of them. Most editors read ἄτηs three times, rightly I think, but it does not really influence our interpretation; ἀρχη̑s, too, must refer to Paris' abduction of Helen.

10. Nicolai, without even discussing the text of the passage, uses it twice, but in different ways. On p. 150 he argues that Hera and Athena are enemies of Aphrodite because of the judgement of Paris, while on p. 160 we read: “Dieser Göttertrug findet seine Rechtfertigung—die die Tragik freilich nicht aufhebt—darin, dass Hektor und Troja infolge ihrer Solidarität mit dem Gastrechtsbrecher Paris (mythologisch gesprochen) sich die Feindschaft Athenes und Heras zugezogen haben, …”. He does not seem to realize that the first statement is only valid if 29-30 is retained, while the second one presupposes the athetising of these lines, since otherwise it is quite simply contrary to the text.

11. See Janko, 364-366, ad 384-93 and 386-8. On 365 he notes: “The storm shows Zeus's wrath at men's crooked judgements; this is stated in three verses, too many for a redundant detail”. However, it is not Zeus' wrath in itself that seems un-Homeric, but only the reason behind it, stated in two verses. 386 is anchored in the whole of the simile, but 387-8 can easily be left out.

12. Despite his clairvoyance at the moment of death, Hector finds a connection that will prove to be non-existent. He prophesies exactly how Achilles will die, but it will not be because of Hector's body; when Achilles has returned it to Priam, it can no longer be a θεω̑ν μήνιμα. Achilles must die anyway.

13. Janko reasons as follows: “Paris … is angered by the fall of his guest-friend and shoots poor Eukhenor. … It is ironic that he is trying to defend xenia just after Menelaos reminds us of his fateful crime against it (624-7). Harpalion would still be alive had Paris not stolen Helen in the first place; the criticism of his morality is muted but unmistakable”. If the text told us that Paris ‘acts to defend xenia’, as if the general principle were his concern, there might be some irony in this. But we are only told: του̑ δὲ Πάριs μάλα θυμὸν ἀποκταμἐνοιο χολώθη· ξει̑νοs γάρ οἱ ἔην πολἐιν μετὰ Παφλαγόνεσσι· I do not think this is enough to support Janko's construction.

14. It is not only Janko, of course, who makes the most of this simile. It arises time and again when divine justice is discussed. Erbse, for instance, argues: “Zeus kann die Partei der Frevler (d.h. der Troer) nicht länger triumphieren lassen. Mit seiner Umkehr bekundet er doch wohl dass er sich verpflichtet fühlt, der geschädigten Partei zum Siege zu verhelfen, d.h. die Übeltäter zu strafen (wie das in dem Gleichnis Π 384-393 als sein Grundsatz zum Ausdruck kommt)” (229-230). Although he does not explicitly connect the men in the simile with the Trojans, the simile is nevertheless the foundation of the words ‘doch wohl’, which indicate that Zeus does not actually say so. Here, too, the Zeus of the story is automatically identified with the Zeus of the simile.

15. Lloyd Jones discusses the justice of Zeus in relation to the Trojans on pp. 7-8. First he concedes that on the divine level questions of right and wrong play no role. Next he reminds us of the convictions of Agamemnon and Menelaos concerning Zeus Horkios and Zeus Xeinios and subsequently he asks: “Can we really feel certain that the eventual triumph of the Greeks has no connection with the undoubted truth that Paris provoked the quarrel by abducting Helen? That is hinted in the last book of the Iliad, and the old fashion of dismissing the passage as an ‘interpolation’ is now less popular than it once was”. Here, too, the phrasing betrays a desire to find what is not there. In real life nobody can feel certain of the motives of the divine power or powers, but in the case of the Iliad we have a narrator to inform us. And if we retain 24.23-30, we still have no proof whatsoever, since in that case the goddesses are angry because of the judgement and not because of Helen's abduction. When Lloyd-Jones concludes his discussion of the subject, he asserts: “In terms of human action, his decision is in accord with the basic principle of justice, that the aggressor must be punished. Is this accord merely a coincidence? Anyone who accepts the argument I have put forward to show that the protection of justice must have been one of Zeus' attributes from the earliest times will hardly think so”. However, this reasoning is unsound, since it amounts to: in Homer's time Zeus was regarded as the protector of justice, and therefore he must be the protector of justice in the Iliad also, although the narrator does not represent him this way. Lloyd-Jones is clearly confusing the reality of life and the reality within the poem. Yamagata, on the contrary, is very careful in this respect. She does not reject ll. 387-8, but argues that we are concerned with ‘two levels of moral climate’ (92). According to this view there is no relation between the Zeus of the simile and the Zeus of the story proper.

Bibliography

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